


The Mirror

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: The Adventures of Student!Jazz and Wizard!Prowl [3]
Category: Transformers - Aligned Continuity Family, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wizards, Curse Breaking, Curses, Developing Relationship, House Hunting, M/M, Magic, May/December Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-21 17:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17047919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Prowl decides to buy a house. Of course, it's not as simple as 'tour, offer, buy, move in'.





	The Mirror

Jazz had met Prowl, a wizard, over the summer when Jazz had been housesitting a remote place located on the edge of the Limbranite Tundra. Jazz had unknowingly been sharing the house with a wight, a kind of weird creature that fed on dreams, and Prowl had been hunting it. The attraction hadn’t been instant, but it had been mutual, although nothing had happened between them at the house. Prowl had followed up with a gift of ancient sheet music and followed that by appearing at Jazz’s door one day.

They’d tried to have a regular date by going to dinner in the restaurant of Prowl’s hotel. Turned out the hotel had a group of poltergeists in the basement. They’d worked together to banish them – Jazz humming to soothe the frightened, angry, spark-fragments, Prowl working magic to cross them over – and finished off the night with Jazz playing some of the songs Prowl had sent for him. Prowl wanted to take things slowly, and nothing more than some kissing had happened before Jazz left. That had been nearly a deca-cycle ago, and while they’d had a few hot-n-heavy makeout sessions, they hadn’t interfaced yet. Jazz was okay with that, though. Prowl was worth the wait.

Besides, Prowl’d asked Jazz to come with him to look at a house he wanted to buy, so the mech intended to stick around. It wasn’t the first house Prowl had looked at, but it was the first he’d invited Jazz to see.

‘ _Is it haunted?’_ Jazz teased Prowl over comms as they drove there. It was further away from Jazz’s dorm than Prowl’s hotel had been but closer to the entertainment district.

‘ _I have only driven by, and taken a virtual tour, but I think not._ ’

‘ _Hmm…sparkeater nest in the cellar?_ ’

‘ _Sparkeaters don’t nest._ ’

Jazz filed that one with ‘demons were locked away by Primus’ and ‘poltergeists may be fragments of sparks.’

 ‘ _One day I’ll suggest something, and you’ll tell me it doesn’t exist._ ’

‘ _Shall I include creatures that no longer exist, or would you prefer I limit myself to purely fictional ones?’_ From anyone else that might’ve been sarcastic, but Prowl was genuinely asking. Endearing.

Jazz sent him a burst of adoring glyphs instead of an answer. Prowl responded affectionately, though shyly, as he usually was when things got emotional; Jazz found that endearing too. ‘Course, he felt that way about a lot of what Prowl did. Jazz knew he’d fallen for the wizard some time ago but hadn’t said anything yet. Prowl wanted to go slowly, so that’s what Jazz would do. Not to mention how much it’d hurt to say the words if Prowl didn’t say them back.

Still, asking for someone’s opinion on a house they were looking to buy seemed like a pretty major thing. Especially since Prowl hadn’t been inside it himself yet.

Prowl pulled off into the transformation lane, and Jazz followed suit. The house was an old Golden Age townhouse rising five stories high, flanked on either side by matching houses. As an energetic mech Jazz guessed was the realtor bounced down the steps toward them, Prowl took his hand. The simple declaration of togetherness made Jazz smile and, if the realtor hadn’t been speaking, he’d have kissed the wizard.

“Hi there,” chirped the realtor. “I’m Buydown.”

Buydown was a light pink-and-silver minibot who vibrated with energy, beaming up at them. Jazz accepted their identifying databurst – Buydown of Altihex, she/her pronouns, licensed realtor for ten meta-cycles – and returned his own.

“It’s so nice to meet you both,” Buydown continued. “I think you’re really going to like this one. It’s been empty for some time, and the owner is selling the house and contents both. They’re willing to close immediately and,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially, “I happen to know they’ll accept almost any offer. They _really_ want to sell. It’s a buyer’s market with this one.”

“Thank you, Buydown,” Prowl said, attention shifting from her to the house’s façade. “Has the building been maintained while it has been untenanted?”

“Oh yes,” Buydown assured him. “It’s been regularly maintained and gets cleaned once a deca-cycle. If you decide to make an offer, I advise you to have it inspected by your own building inspector, of course.”

“Of course,” Prowl agreed. Jazz could practically feel Prowl’s interest shifting from Buydown to the house. “May we?”

“Sure thing!” Buydown waved them on. “I’ll wait in the entryway, just comm me if you have any questions.”

“Yes, of course,” Prowl said absently, in that way that told Jazz he was focusing on something most mechs wouldn’t pick up on.

‘ _What is it?_ ’ Jazz asked over comms. Prowl glanced over at him with a questioning optic ridge raised. ‘ _You’ve got a look. Something’s here._ ’

‘ _Yes. In the house but – not attached to it. Not strong._ ’

‘ _Are we checking that out first?_ ’

‘ _No. Tour the house normally. I don’t want Buydown to ask questions._ ’

The house was tall, narrow, and long and gave Jazz a sense of having stepped back in time. It looked like it hadn’t been changed since it was built. Jazz felt a little out of place; Prowl looked like he belonged.

“Feels empty,” Jazz murmured as they walked through the first floor. Not just like a house with no one in it but one that hadn’t been inhabited for meta-cycles. It wasn’t creepy. Just…empty.

“We leave traces of ourselves in the places we inhabit,” Prowl told him. “They fade over time. It’s their absence you feel. Does it bother you?”

Jazz shook his head. “No. Just…shouldn’t be empty, y’know?”

Prowl rubbed the side of Jazz’s hand with his thumb. “I know.”

The shape of the house, long and thin, meant that there were only a couple of rooms and a spacious landing on each floor. Everything was clean, untouched, poised. Drop cloths covered the furniture, mirrors, art, and the larger light fixtures. Still…

“Place’d look amazing all lit up and – and living,” Jazz mused as they looked through the second floor. Prowl was examining a piece of art on the wall in the entertainment room, lifting the corner of the drop cloth to peer at the side.

“You’d bring more than enough bright young things to enliven it.”

Jazz glanced back at him. Had Prowl just suggested Jazz and his friends party here? “Seriously? You wouldn’t mind?”

Prowl lifted Jazz’s hand and kissed it. “Of course not.” He nuzzled Jazz’s fingers affectionately, a gesture that told Jazz Prowl was comfortable in the house. “I want to show you something on the third floor.”

“The whatsit you’re looking for?”

Prowl shook his head. “No, but I suppose it could contain it.”

“Cryptic.”

“Wizard.”

Jazz laughed and wondered how a moment in a house abandoned thanks to a creepy mystical thing could feel so perfect.

When they set foot on the third-floor landing, Prowl’s attention locked on a drop cloth-draped rectangle hanging on the centre of the wall.

“Ah,” Prowl murmured. “Of course. Central.”

“So, haunted?” Jazz hedged, following Prowl over to the rectangle.

“No.” Prowl lifted the edge of a drop cloth to reveal a large antique mirror. “Cursed.”

Jazz made the mistake of looking in the mirror. The reflection was…wrong. It was too dark, and not because it was shadowed by the cloth. His image wore a faint sneer. Prowl’s features were cruel instead of stern. There was the faintest buzz of something slimy and unpleasant, like dirty oil, at the back of his mind.

“Cover it,” Jazz said in a low voice. Prowl dropped the cloth, obscuring the mirror. “What was that? What’s wrong with it?”

“It shows you your worst self. It influences you, slowly over time, to be more on edge, more aggressive, hurtful.” Prowl rubbed the fingertips of the hand that had touched the cloth with his thumb as if checking for some kind of residue. “Early Shockwave, I think.”

“Shockwave?”

“Mm.”

Jazz frowned. “I’ve heard that name.”

“He professes to be a scientist, now. Occult science, perhaps.” Prowl reached out and grasped the mirror, cloth and all, by the top of the frame. He lifted it off its hangers and set it on the floor, facing the wall. “I’ll take it with us when we go to the next floor, where the living quarters are. Cleansing curses can be messy and is best done in a wash rack.”

“No. Do it now.” Jazz didn’t know why he was so sure it had to be done immediately, but he was.

Prowl gave him a searching look, then nodded. “Very well.”

Prowl picked up the mirror, swathed in its drop cloth, and headed to the fourth floor.

“Which way?” he asked Jazz when they reached the fourth-floor landing.

Jazz had no idea why Prowl was asking him, but… “Right.”

The washrack was large and luxurious, freshly cleaned with gleaming titanium and crystal fittings and presumably un-cursed mirrors. Despite being unnerved by the mirror, Jazz couldn’t help noting that the shower stall and the oil bath were big enough to fit both he and Prowl together.

Prowl removed the drop cloth and set the mirror in the shower stall. He ‘spaced a bottle of clear golden oil and poured a thin line of it along the top of the frame, making sure trails slid down the sides. Prowl brought out a small brush and added a line of oil along the bottom of the frame, completing the circuit. Jazz felt the room lighten, even though the reflection in the mirror seemed darker. He guessed Prowl had contained the curse. He didn’t ask, yet, though: he didn’t want to interrupt Prowl.

Prowl was brushing a spiral of glyphs onto the mirror, working in from the edge to the centre. Jazz recognized the glyphs as belonging to the same alphabet as the ones etched on Prowl’s rifle. Jazz didn’t know that alphabet from anywhere else.

Prowl finished the spiral and sealed and ‘spaced the oil. “There will be a flash,” he said and flattened his palm against the centre of the glass.

Prowl spoke, commanding. White-gold light flashed, and the glyphs burst briefly into flame, burning the oil cleanly away. Once the fire died away, Prowl carefully rinsed down the mirror, cleaned the brush, and made sure any hint of oil or ash was washed away. He even gave the frame and glass a quick polish once the mirror was dried, probably to hide that they’d done anything with it.

“Better?” Prowl asked, standing.

Jazz looked in the mirror again. With the angle, he could just barely see their faces, but the reflection showed them as it should.

“Much better.” He kissed Prowl’s cheek, felt his wizard smile. “So, what was it you wanted to show me downstairs?”

They went back down, pausing to hang the mirror back up, and Prowl showed him to a room overlooking the rear terrace. The room was long with large windows and walls covered in soft tiles. It took Jazz a second to realize that they were _acoustic_ tiles. The covered furniture had confused him at first, but the tiles gave it away.

“You always say it can be difficult to book practice rooms,” Prowl, standing behind him, said. “I thought, perhaps…”

“It’s perfect,” Jazz said, already picturing what he could do with a private music room. “You weren’t considering the house just for,” me, “ _this_ , were you?” he finished. That would be just too big. That was a _conjunx_ level thing. That was way faster than Prowl’d given any hint he wanted to go.

“No, not just. It _is_ why I wanted to see the house in person with you.”

“Not to look for cursed stuff?”

Prowl laughed softly and turned Jazz around for a kiss. “You know, before you, I always had to hunt for things like that.”

“Calling me bad luck?”

“No.” Prowl brushed the backs of his fingers over Jazz’s cheek. Prowl wasn’t smiling, exactly, but there was a softness to his stern features. “No, far from it.”

“Prowl…”

“I know.” Prowl’s hand slid across the back of Jazz’s neck, drawing him closer. “Shall I ask Buydown to present my offer to the owner?”

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed, held by Prowl’s gaze. “I’d like that.”

Jazz was pretty sure Prowl commed Buydown before he’d even finished speaking. Prowl didn’t get that slightly unfocused look in his optics so many other mecha did, but there was something. Probably no one else would’ve even picked it up, but Jazz spent a lot of time looking at Prowl.

“She tells me she can complete the closing in seven mega-cycles if the seller accepts, and she is virtually certain he will.” Prowl finally claimed the kiss he’d been angling for, sighing in pleasure into Jazz’s mouth.

“Gonna feel good to have your own place again?” Jazz asked when the kiss ended, idly tracing patterns on Prowl’s armour. Prowl hadn’t let him go, and Jazz was okay with that.

“Very.” Prowl was, very lightly, stroking Jazz’s back with his fingertips, up and down, over and over. “Perhaps, when I move in, you would stay the night?”

Jazz felt his temperature rise a couple degrees at the idea and put his arms around Prowl’s neck. “Love to, darling. Any night you want.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Eight mega-cycles (days) seems like a short time for a house closing when on Earth they’re usually 30 or more. But then I did the math and 24h * 30 = 720. 720 / 93 = 7.7 so it turns out to be a roughly equivalent amount of time
> 
> Here are the inspirations for Prowl’s new house:  
> [See Inside a Gilded Age Townhouse on the Upper East Side](https://www.townandcountrymag.com/leisure/real-estate/g21273743/upper-east-side-gilded-age-townhouse/)  
> [Sold for $42million - the Gilded Age New York City mansion with seven floors and its own servants' quarters (butler not included)](https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2163800/Sold-42million--Gilded-Age-New-York-City-mansion-seven-floors-servants-quarters.html)  
> The [floor plan](https://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/06/24/article-2163800-13BE22AD000005DC-488_964x533.jpg) is based on the house in the latter link, except I dropped the floor with the servant’s quarters and substituted the music room for the bedroom suite on the third floor.


End file.
